This one came from a session with Magnetic Poetry on my fridge at around two am one night, after about a day of no sleep or more.
never do I dream when
the black day rains
and mad tongues read
robed visions of man
and his shadowed fiddle
milking frantic music
from the delicate bare
breasts of the goddess
of love’s needs and with
her raw red cry licking
sleep’s feet
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